Chapter Four
After dinner, Judy ducked out of the kitchen to make some phone calls, leaving her mother and Aunt Barb at the kitchen table over mugs of tea. The afternoon had passed without event, and their interactions had been limited to getting ready for the hospital and making the small talk that came easily to blood relatives. Judy couldn’t help but sense that Aunt Barb’s illness loomed over their heads all day and she had learned from her experience with her uncle that a cancer diagnosis changed the very air in a room, present but invisible. She’d learned, too, that for all the upbeat chatter about clear nodes and early detection, cancer could be cruelly unpredictable; her Uncle Steve’s lymphocytic leukemia had been in remission when it morphed like a shape-shifter into the deadly Richter’s Syndrome, striking him down within weeks. She prayed she wouldn’t lose her aunt to the disease.
Judy tried to shake off her anxiety but couldn’t, and she headed into the living room for the couch, seeing Aunt Barb’s hand everywhere. The living room was tiny but super-cozy, with a loveseat and an easy chair with faded chintz slipcovers, piled with woven jacquard blankets that she collected. Her framed floral needlepoints covered the walls, which were of white plaster, and her gardening books filled the white-painted shelves. A rustic brick fireplace with a blackened surround left a permanently charred, woodsy smell in the air.
Judy slid her phone out of her back pocket, scrolled to her phone log, and pressed the number to return Linda Adler’s call. It rang and rang, but the call went to voicemail and she left a message. Next she pressed in the number for her boyfriend Frank, whom she had already called on the drive to her aunt’s, but he hadn’t called back. He liked Aunt Barb, and Judy knew he would be upset by the news about her cancer, which was why she hadn’t left it on his voicemail or sent him a text.
“What’s up, babe!” Frank shouted, when the call connected. The background was noisy shouting and laughing, punctuated by the thwap thwap thwap of basketballs hitting a gym floor.
“Where are you? Did you get my messages?” Judy tried to swallow her annoyance. He hadn’t listened to her messages, because he never did, which drove her crazy.
“I can’t, I’m filling in on a round-robin tournament!”
“You’re not supposed to be playing basketball.” Judy didn’t bother to disguise her dismay. Frank had broken his hand on the job and was wearing a cloth brace for two more weeks.
“Don’t sweat it, babe! It’s not a problem!”
“Frank, think. Of course it’s a problem. It’s crazy.”
“Don’t worry! I know what I’m doing! I shoot with my right hand!”
“Are you serious? What if your hand gets bumped? Or you fall? What about your brace?”
“I removed it! That’s why it’s removable!” Frank burst into laughter, which got drowned out by wild cheering. “It’s an emergency!”
“A basketball emergency?”
“Relax, Mom!”
“I am relaxed.” Judy tried not to act like his mother, but it was difficult when he acted like a child. “And what about the dog? Could the vet dip her?”
“I couldn’t take her because the guys needed me, Joey got sick! I can’t talk now! We’re about to hit the court! Call you later!”
“No, wait, listen.” Judy worried she would be overheard by her mother or Aunt Barb, so she got up and walked around the couch, cupping her hand over her phone. “I won’t be home tonight. I’m staying at Aunt Barb’s—”
“What did you say? I can’t hear you!”
Judy went to the front door, twisted the knob, and went outside, closing the door behind her. It had gotten dark and cold, but she hugged herself. “Aunt Barb’s cancer is stage II—”
“Babe!” Frank shouted, impatient. “Can’t you talk louder? There’s too much noise! I can’t hear you, I gotta go!”
“This is important!” Judy gritted her teeth. “I want to talk to you about—”
“Sorry, babe, I really gotta go! We’re up! Text me!” The line went dead.
Judy pressed END, but wasn’t ready to go inside. She sank onto the front step, holding on to her phone while Frank’s photo faded from the screen. She eyed the sky, in thought. There was no moon tonight, only a starless black blanket that illuminated nothing. She’d learned today that life really was short, and it wasn’t just a cliché. Her biological clock was ticking, and she wondered if she was as happy as she used to be with Frank. He was so terrific and fun when times were easy, but in the rough patches, he seemed to fade away. She didn’t know if he was selfish or if she’d just trained him wrong, being basically independent. And she didn’t know if she had to do anything about it, necessarily.
Suddenly, her attention was drawn by a black police cruiser driving slowly down the street, its high beams on. It paused at the houses, then stopped in front of her aunt’s house.
Judy straightened up, surprised. The cruiser’s powerful engine rumbled into silence, and two uniformed officers emerged, alighting from the driver’s side and passenger seats. The cops met in front of her aunt’s house, then walked up her walkway toward the front door. Judy couldn’t see their features in the dim light, but they made similar silhouettes, about the same size and build. She rose to greet them. “Hello, Officers, can I help you?”
“Good evening, I’m Officer Bart Hoffman, and this is my partner Officer Paul Ramirez of the East Grove Police Department. Are you Barb Moyer?”
“No,” Judy answered. “That’s my aunt.”
“Is she here?” Officer Hoffman’s jaw set in a grim line, but that was all Judy could see of him under the patent bill of his cap.
“Yes, she’s inside.”
“We’ll need to talk to her.”